Just One Last Christmas
by staceycj
Summary: Bobby gets one last Christmas with his boys.   post 7X10
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this. Please let me know if you do or not...I have more of it on my computer, but I wasn't sure if this was something anyone was interested in. Lemme know! Stacey

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><p>There were many things that Bobby Singer could be accused of, but lack of determination and lack of tenacity were not on that long list of things that could be associated with Bobby's name. Ever since he had been transported to permanent fantasy land aka heaven, he had been trying to figure out how the hell to get a message to Sam and Dean, how to still guide them and help them with the mondo mess he had been forced to leave behind.<p>

Bobby talked to Ash, who was pleasantly happy to see him, as was Ellen and Jo, and even Rufus was pleased to see him. Beer had been drank, stories traded, laughs enjoyed, but the hole in Bobby's heart still ached acutely. He shared with his fellow fallen hunters and they all said the same thing; there was no way that they were going to get a second chance at life, none of them. Then they joked that Bobby had had more lives than the rest of them had, and Bobby agreed, but he still felt as if a thousand lifetimes wouldn't be enough if he had to leave his boys unattended on earth to fight those fugly bastards who apparently knew their way around mortal weapons. Which for hunters who relied on the supernatural to solve their problems, monsters wielding guns, made things a little more complicated. When your gun was loaded with salt rounds it didn't do a whole lot to stop the unstoppable monster in front of you who was holding a machine gun. Salt wouldn't stop those bullets. Maybe hunters needed to start wearing Kevlar. Bobby had mused but then was reminded that short of a Kevlar hat, he'd still be dead.

He had left his fantasy home, fantasy salvage yard, fantasy Sam and Dean, fantasy wife, fantasy everything on a mission to find God. And his determination and tenacity finally paid off after what seemed like years of searching. It was Joshua who finally caved and gave him a cryptic answer, because God knew that no angel, either in heaven and pure of heart and spoke to God, or one on Earth with an agenda and an apocalyptic bent would ever give anyone a straight answer that made any sense right away. But Bobby got it, after days and day of trying to put the pieces together, of analyzing the words and figuring out the riddle, Bobby knew where to go. He marched through areas of heaven that were deserted, some were cold and almost unbearable, and some were so hot that it felt like he was wading through scalding water, heat lapping at his face and neck and boiling his feet and melting his insides. And had Bobby been a lesser man he would have succumbed to the pain and discomfort, but by God he was a hunter and he had left two boys on Earth who needed him, and he wasn't going to let a little something like having his eternal soul boiled or frozen stop him from completing his mission.

He finally reached a door. It simply read "headquarters—employees only". Bobby rolled his eyes at the sign, "No wonder the angels are arrogant, they learned from the master." Bobby muttered to himself and turned the knob.

Inside were rows and rows of computers and people sitting at the computers answering phone calls. The noise was oppressive, millions of voices colliding and bouncing off of each other causing a cacophony of sound that rolled out of the room like a thick smoke that made it difficult to breathe.

Bobby took a deep breath and went in. He pushed his way through the guards that tried to stop him, pushed through the rows of computers that seemed to come from nowhere trying to block his path. But Bobby made it. He made it to the room at the end of the long room that simply said "The Boss" and as bold as he pleased, despite the hands on his shoulders trying to pry him away from the door, Bobby turned the knob, cussed solidly at the bastards trying to stop him, and he took a step forward. The hands disappeared, the sound stopped, leaving Bobby with a ringing sensation in his ears and the door closed behind him.

Bobby turned from the closed door to the desk in front of him. A dark haired man sat behind it. Wire glasses pushed up on the bridge of his long angular nose. "You God?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"Bobby Singer."

"You God?" Bobby asked again.

The man behind the desk smiled, his thin lips pulling into a smile which did nothing to take the edge off of the angular features the man possessed. He folded his hands in front of him and sighed.

"Yes, Bobby Singer, I'm God." He paused a second to let Bobby squirm and when he didn't God's smile spread and touched his brown eyes. "I knew I made you a stubborn son of a bitch."

"Don't talk about my momma that way." Bobby retorted.

"My apologies." God said amused. "What makes soul who had his own heaven, his own paradise for all eternity, go out and come look for the big boss?"

"I want to go back."

God chuckled. "Now, I know you've had dealings with my cousin Death, and he's explained to you the balance of the world and all of that nonsense. So you know I can't simply just let you go back to Earth."

"You've done it before. You let Cass bring me back."

"Cass?"

"Castiel."

"Oh, that's right, the nickname Dean Winchester provided." God sighed and stood up, moved around the desk and sat down on the front of it, mere feet from Bobby. "I needed you on the ground, I needed you to be there to guide the Winchesters."

"I don't think that mission is over yet."

"You doubt my judgment?"

"Yeah. I do." God inclined his head.

"Brash honesty." He nodded. "What makes you think that you know better mortal?"

"I know my boys."

"You don't think they can do this on their own?"

"I think you take me away from Dean, and you are going to have a broken man on your hands."

"Dean's strong. I made him strong."

"He can only take so much. And with your bastard son torturing Sam, I don't think he's going to be able to help Dean through it."

"I cannot be held responsible for what my sons do."

"Hogwash. You knew your petulant children were after Armageddon."

"I knew that Michael would be a good son and take care of things. That it wouldn't be a problem."

"But they wanted to use my boys to do their dirty work."

"That's what I made Sam and Dean for."

Bobby's eyes bore holes into God's face. "My boys were not made simply as vessels for your dick children."

"Don't you speak ill of my children." God said standing up and moving towards Bobby, danger in every step.

"Then don't you minimize my boys, and act like they are nothing but angel condoms." Both men stood toe to toe eyes boring holes into the other's.

"Fair enough." God said finally. "Now. You want to go back and help your children."

"Yes."

"No."

"What?"

"I will not upset the balance and risk Death knocking on my door again and giving me a lecture. But I will allow you to have one last night with your boys. Let you give them whatever they need to get going. To pick up the pieces. You are right, Dean can't cope, and Sam is doing his best, but…Lucifer was never the kindest of my boys."

Bobby eyed the deity warily. "I thought you said Dean was strong enough."

"I wanted to gauge your response. I wanted to know where you stood, how committed you were to this line of thought."

Bobby nodded hesitantly. "What's the catch? Why are you going to let me see my boys again?"

"I'm feeling generous." God sighed and went back to his chair. "You have one night Bobby Singer. Make it count."


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby found himself on the street outside of a dingy motel room. The pizza guy who was poised to knock on the door jumped about ten feet when he saw Bobby.

"I'll deliver those for you kiddo." Bobby said with a wry smile, took the pizza from the guy and watched as the pimply teenager dashed to the running car and sped out of the parking lot like the devil was on his ass.

Bobby smiled and knocked on the door. "Coming!" he heard Sam yell.

The door opened and Sam's hazel eyes greeted Bobby. They were tired and worn, but the sight of them nearly brought Bobby to his knees.

The door opened all of the way and a shot gun greeted Bobby's stomach. "This is getting old." Sam said with a lethal edge to his voice.

"It's me Sam." Sam blinked a couple of times tiredly and pushed the gun further into Bobby's belly. "Sam, it doesn't matter if you fill me full of buckshot or salt, I'm dead as it is so it ain't gonna matter."

"Then?" Sam questioned.

"Let me in, and I'll explain everything."

"I'm not that stupid."

"I know you ain't boy." Bobby said with exasperation. Bobby shifted and then looked Sam in the eye. "Boy. It's me. I've got one night with you boys, one night to make sure you guys are alright, and I really don't want to spend that time standing out here arguing with you about whether or not I'm really me."

Sam seemed to consider the argument Bobby posed. His eyes shifted a moment as did his feet and then he let the shot gun drop and he said, "One second." The door closed and was closed for several moments and then Sam opened the door and Bobby walked through, past the devil's trap that Sam had quickly sketched on the floor. Sam's eyes watered over with tears.

"Bobby?"

"It's me kiddo." The two men embraced and the younger held on tightly and cried.

"How?" Sam asked pulling away from the surrogate father.

"Went and found the big guy."

"God?" Sam asked astonished.

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Whole lot of walking and searching."

"He just let you out?"

"No. No. I'm just on shore leave for the night. I wanted the rest of my life time. But he said that I'd just have to content myself with one night with my boys."

Sam nodded and submitted for another round of hugging. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." He held on a little tighter and then they ended the embrace. "How are you son?"

"Good. Good." Sam nodded too quickly and sat down on the bed that Bobby assumed was his.

"Don't lie to me boy." He said and pulled the kitchenette chair over to the bed and sat down.

Sam hesitated for a little bit. "It's been hard. Lucifer is up front and center. He's been louder and crazier since…" Sam brushed his forehead with a finger and nodded towards Bobby. "But I've had to keep it together."

"Dean?"

Sam gave a small sad laugh. "Dean's gone. Dean's just gone. What's left is a mess in a coat. Drinks and drinks, hardly eats, hardly sleeps, and he sits in the car while I hunt. It takes everything I've got every morning to get him up and showered. If he's left on his own he would just rather smell." Sam looked down, sad and tried. "That's not my brother Bobby. He just hasn't been Dean since you died."

"Where is he?"

"He went for a walk. He walks a lot. He goes nowhere in particular he just walks and walks. Snow up to his ass, scorching sun, torrential down pour. Doesn't matter." Sam shrugged. "He's got ten more minutes before I go looking for him. I've set his watch to beep so he'll remember to come back. He forgets, just keeps walking and walking. Before I knew to set his watch, or set mine, he was gone for almost three hours, and he walked miles and miles." Sam ran a hand through his hair, pushing hair that was longer than when Bobby had passed, out of his eyes.

Sam looked up at Bobby. "I don't know what to do. I've never had to take care of Dean completely alone before. What do I do? We've got no one left."

"Yell at him. That's what he responds to. He needs to have someone yell at him, order him, get him moving again."

"I don't know if that will work."

"It has to work Sammy. You can't be soft with him. You can't pet him and cajole him and ask him nicely. Dean doesn't do well with that. You know that."

"But that's always been someone else's job."

"It's your job now kiddo. You have to be strong. As strong for Dean as any of us ever has. You have to be stronger. You have to make him pick himself up. Remind him why you hunt."

"I've tried…"

"You told him didn't you."

Sam nodded. "I've told him and told him. I've told him about all of the wins we've had, told him about all of the people we've saved."

"What did he say?" Bobby asked knowingly.

"That we haven't been able to save anyone that counts."

"I don't know what to say to that."

"Hit him." Sam's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Ain't that what he does to you when he thinks you're being stupid?" Sam nodded. "Return the favor."

"But…"

"Sam. Your brother needs an iron hand. It's how he's been raised, it's what he understands. That's why he raised you different."

Sam looked down. "So, I need to be more like Dad?"

"No. You need to be you. You need to use what you know about your brother to help him. You need to smack him and get his head on straight. It takes work…takes patience. It takes everything in you to make him see what is so plain to everyone else." Sam nodded.

"I know."

"Then use what you know boy. Don't be afraid. Dean won't get mad. He won't leave."

"No. He never leaves. That's my job."

"You need to get over that young man. You've made mistakes. We all have. But you can't keep beating yourself up for leaving when you knew that you couldn't handle the situation any longer." Sam nodded. "You are a strong good man Sam Winchester. That will be what will help your brother."

Sam nodded, holding tears back. "I miss you Bobby."

"I miss you too kiddo."

The door opened, and a bearded, tired Dean walked in. His eyes connected to Bobby's and the sadness just about knocked Bobby out of the chair.


End file.
